Halo at war chronicles: Fields of Vosemia
by reza0807
Summary: The war between the UEG and Galactic Empire rages on! In an effort to bring the UEG under its heel, the Empire has launched a new offensive on the UNSC colony of VOSEMIA. After a valiant defense of the UNSC navy, the Imperials have finally begun their ground assault. Thousands upon thousands of men and women pick up arms to push back against the alien invader; the battle has begun!
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a one-shot about a single battle between the Empire and UNSC. Unlike other stories I've written, the style will be a little bit different since it's not going to be a 100.000 words story. As you will see down below, some scenes won't be as big as others. However, I do hope it will prove to be an interesting read for all Star Wars and Halo fans. The story is inspired by the Sabaton song "Fields of Verdun", which is based on the battle of Verdun during WW1.**

**This first chapter will be somewhat of a setup, while the real action begins in the following chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I know nothing about military tactics or jargon. Apologies to any military personnel out there if I get things wrong.**

* * *

_The war between the UEG and Galactic Empire rages on! In an effort to bring the UEG under its heel, the Empire has launched a new offensive on the UNSC colony of VOSEMIA. After a valiant defense of the UNSC's navy, the Imperials have finally begun their ground assault. Thousands upon thousands of men and women pick up arms to push back against the alien invader. _

_In order to assault the capital as soon as possible, imperial army GENERAL ARNDALL LOTT has deployed his forces in the Valtawa Wilds. Fighting under his command is the ruthless 71__st__ Imperial Army Corps. The UNSC immediately responded by sending GENERAL ARTHUR HUFFMAN to combat this threat. Together with the 27__th__ UNSC Marine Division and the 38__th__ Armored Battalion, the general has entrenched himself between the imperial forces and the capital. Their moto is clear: "They shall not pass!" _

_But who will claim victory on the FIELDS OF VOSEMIA…_

* * *

Bryan exhaled loudly as he placed yet another sandbag on the edge of his trench. This had to be the umpteenth bag that he had filled, and his arms were beginning to ache. The soreness in his muscles had been steadily building up as he worked on the fortifications. A droplet of sweat slowly trickled down his left temple, leaving a glistering layer behind that coated his head. By now, his short-cropped dark hair was drenched underneath his helmet. Bryan reached out and wiped it away; the work was tiresome and exhausting, but it had a clear purpose that he couldn't ignore.

After all, these sandbags would probably save his life in the long run.

The young private – no older than twenty years – looked around and saw that his comrades in arms were equally occupied with their own tasks. For as far as he could see, UNSC marines dug trenches, foxholes and filled bags with the very dirt that they took from Vosemia's soil. It was a small mercy that the weather was cloudy, because he didn't know how fast they would work if the warm sun shone down on them; their work was grueling enough as it was already.

Bryan glanced at the fellow occupant of his trench, and nudged the man's shoulder, "Reiner, hand over my water, will you?"

The older marine sighed loudly, as if to emphasize how exasperated he felt at the request. Of course, Reiner wasn't that much older than him; only two years or so. The heavy gunner was a private just like him.

"You know, you could just hold on to it yourself." Reiner complained in his heavy accent. An old German dialect, if he remembered correctly, "You don't have to annoy me every five minutes for another drink. What do I look like? Your personal butler?"

"Do you want an honest answer?" Bryan chuckled, reaching out to grab the bottle.

His partner shook his head, "Unbelievable…"

Ignoring Reiner's mutterings altogether, he quickly raised the bottle to his lips and drunk from it. The refreshing coolness of the water was more than welcome. Despite it being a mild temperature, it felt as if he was going to fall over from the heat.

They had been working on the fortifications for quite some time now; the network of trenches that they had constructed reached from the base of the hill all the way to where the river was. The Valtawa Wilds were notorious for its lush forests and steep hills, as well as the large river that passed right through it. All in all, it was a pretty good defensive location to set up shop.

Considering the imperials were planning on passing through to reach the capital, Bryan figured it made sense to dig their trenches and foxholes here. The river was a natural roadblock, and there were no bridges for the imperials to cross. Well, there had been one, but a few demolition charges later it was nothing more than a burning wreck.

"Hey, stop staring and get back to work!"

Bryan blinked as Reiner threw a small ball of dirt at him. The hardened soil bounced harmlessly off of his uniform, but left a brown smudge behind. He gave the heavy gunner a deadpan look- already wiping off the specks of dirt that were left on his chest.

"Was that really necessary?" He grumbled.

"Considering you still haven't finished with those sandbags, I'd say it was." Reiner shrugged, completely unapologetic. His fellow marine could be quite uncaring at times, and the man's current attitude did little to surprise him, "You always slack off when you drink. I'm not going to do all the work here."

Bryan rolled his eyes at the curt response, but relented and got back to work. As much as he hated to admit it, he did have the tendency to get lost in his thoughts whenever he took a short break; he was an experienced daydreamer. He grabbed a nearby sandbag and picked it up, lifting the heavy weight with his legs instead of his back, and carried it over to the edge of the trench.

The trench they had dug wasn't as deep as those of centuries ago when humanity had been confined to Earth, waging world wars that had devastated entire countries. No, it would provide excellent cover from enemy fire and artillery, but they were hardly wide enough to allow dozens of soldiers to get in. Bryan sighed as he continued the repetitive work; pick up a bag, carry it around, and place it where it would block the bullets.

Or, well, plasma bolts- he wasn't much for details.

Of course, he and Reiner weren't the only ones at work. The entirety of third platoon was focused on building fortifications. Other marines were also digging the last of the trenches, and others were digging foxholes or filling sandbags with the dirt that they dug up. Luckily they had made good progress, because he could already see the turrets being assembled. They had an arsenal of M343A2 chainguns – the latest variant – at their disposal, but there was an equal amount of the older M41 Vulcan.

While the former was more modern and reliable, in wartime they had to use whatever was available to them. Bryan remembered the quartermaster mentioning that they simply did not have enough of the M343A2 because the demand was higher than the production capacity. After all, the output of the factories on planets such as this one was responsible for whether the marines got the right equipment or not, and unfortunately it fell short.

But that didn't mean it was a complete disaster; Bryan's own sergeant, Davidson, was a veteran of the human-covenant war and had reassured them that the Vulcan was more than capable of ripping the imps a new one.

Bryan figured they were going to need them. This was his first real battle, as he had enlisted only a while ago and had finished bootcamp recently, so this would also be his first encounter with the imperials. From what he had heard and learned, the Empire was fond of sending in massive amounts of soldiers and walkers to win its battles. The marine corps was outnumbered most of the time, and only skill and steadfast determination would save them.

"Heads up, we got another bunker drop." He heard Reiner say, prompting him to focus on the familiar rumble of a Pelican's engines.

A familiar sight of two Pelicans appeared in the air as the aircrafts approached. Hanging underneath from multiple cables was a pre-fabricated bunker, the kind that could be deployed at a moment's notice. Among the marine corps it had received the nickname of a "bunker drop". Bryan watched with interest as the Pelican pilots carefully hovered a previously marked spot, where a group of marines were waiting for the cargo to be deployed. Once they seemed to be in the correct spot, the bunker was released from the sturdy cables, allowing it to fall on the ground below.

"There goes another one." Bryan remarked, watching as the marine around the bunker began to prepare it.

With the ability to deploy these pre-fabricated bunkers it had become much more efficient to set up a proper defense. Even now there were other bunkers all over the trench line, filled with turrets and soldiers who would use said weapon emplacements. The imperials would have to bring out to the big guns to put a dent in those.

Reiner nodded, "Seems like it. The general really doesn't want to lose this spot. Can't blame him of course, but it makes you think, no? Just how many imperials are going to come charging out of the forest, or how many walkers are going to try and stomp us flat?"

It was a frightening prospect that Bryan shared; seeing so many assets being assigned to one position meant that it wasn't just of great strategic importance, but that the enemy would fight hard to take it. He silently hoped his trench would be enough to save him from a blaster bolt.

"Well, we've got enough mortars and machine guns to stem the tide." Bryan offered weakly, feeling some unease well up as well. He would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid, "Besides, we got the high ground."

Reiner snorted, "Yeah, as if that's going to win the battle for us, Dummkopf."

"Hey! What did I tell you about insulting me with words of your own language?!" He growled indignantly.

"Less talking, more working." The taller man rolled his hazel eyes, clearly not amused, "If you put as much energy in doing your job as you do in wasting time – mine in particular – we would have been done fifteen minutes ago."

Bryan gave an offended look, but knew better than to argue with Reiner.

"Dunham! Schwartzman! Have you finished with those sandbags yet?" Came a familiar bass voice from behind.

Walking up to them, carrying an MA5D assault rifle that hung on his back, was sergeant Davidson; their CO. To Bryan he was the very image of a sergeant. Tough, tall, built and a hardass. Sergeant Davidson knew how to whip his squad in shape, and his glare could make them squirm harder than their own mothers. Unfortunately that glare was aimed at them at the moment.

Standing at the sergeant's side was their fellow squad mate; private Lorenzo Salvini, their medic. His occupation was marked by the red symbol on his gear, showing that he was in charge of helping the squad in case of injuries that were sustained on the battlefield. Bryan didn't know that much about the man, other than his Latino inheritance and youth. Hell, the guy was younger than him!

"Just five more, sarge." Reiner responded quickly. If there was something that the sergeant hated even more than slackers, then it was being slow in answering him, "One more minute and we'll have finished up here."

"About damn time." Davidson grunted. "I've got one of the tank crews asking for help to dig a big nice hole for them to put their tank in, and I just so happened to volunteer the two of you. Understood?"

"Roger that, sarge." Bryan sighed, already accepting his fate; he'd be sweating a lot more today.

"Salvini, you'll help them out. Understood?" The sergeant turned his attention to their medic, who had been watching silently.

"Yes, sir." Salvini nodded eagerly.

Bryan recalled that Salvini had been at work a bit further down below, helping some other marines with the barbed wire that they were setting up. Unfortunately there wasn't much of it; the nearby fort's supply depot had had more ammo than barbed wire. However, there was enough to seriously impair the enemy's ability to approach their position, and that was good enough for the marines.

Another grunt, "Keep up the good work. Who knows? The two of you might actually be able to kill an imp after all."

Well, that was as much praise as they were ever going to get. With his next objective in mind, Bryan resumed his work by helping Reiner set up the last of the sandbags. The whole time he wondered what the imperials had in store for them.

* * *

"Give it to me straight, specialist. What do you have for me?"

Kowalski took a deep breath as he processed the general's request, already adjusting the holotable so it would project a three-dimensional image of the Valtawa Wilds. The familiar noise of the command center of fort Nightwell was drowned out as he focused on his task. Standing at the other side of the table in a crisp uniform was general Huffman himself, who was in charge of the defense of the area and the 27th Marine Division.

General Huffman was well in his early sixties, yet remained an imposing figure. After all, Huffman had been a marine long before he had become a general, and that never faded away. The man wasn't as tall as one would imagine, but his sheer presence made you feel very small, and Kowalski had experienced this many times before. The general's grey hair was neatly cut, and his heavy mustache was well-groomed; the latter wasn't exactly proper regulation, but no one berated him for it.

There were two things that the general took pride in; his command – which had rewarded him success and the respect of his troops – and the patch of hair between his upper lip and nose. Not even his own wife could remove it, and according to the general he was still winning that particular war.

Having served under the man as part of his staff for quite a while now, Kowalski was familiar enough with the general to know what he wanted, giving him ample time to prepare. His fingers glided over the display with practiced ease, hitting the correct commands to bring up the right projection; the imperial staging area in the Valtawa Wilds.

"It's just as we thought, sir. Our scouts confirmed our suspicions." He began, gesturing towards the three-dimensional projection. An area of a plateau surrounded by hills and steep ridges was highlighted, and multiple symbols for buildings and troops dotted the place, "The Empire has chosen this plateau as their main base and staging area. It's a wide patch of land, so if they're following standard imperial protocol, they'll have set up everything a base needs in a matter of hours. Reports indicate that a shield has already been powered up, protecting the whole plateau from any kind of attack."

"What about the air?" Huffman asked, eyes scanning the highlighted area.

Kowalski shook his head, "There are regular patrols of TIE fighters at every moment. Any fighter or bomber will be intercepted long before they can get to the target, and even then there's still the shield."

"And they won't be stupid enough to forget setting up AA turrets." The general finished in understanding. "Any estimates about how many troops they've brought along?"

He had to look that up for a moment. Even though his memory was superb, he didn't want to risk giving faulty information. The general needed the correct intel to formulate a plan, and Kowalski prided himself in having never failed to deliver.

"We've had two Acclamators touch down next to the plateau, meaning we're looking at the very least at 10.000 enemy soldiers, not counting the materials and armored support they unloaded." Kowalski explained. Their sensors had registered the familiar shapes of the imperial assault ships, but it hadn't been hard to look past the large vessels descending towards the planet, "As for air support, I believe they have several squadrons of TIEs available. Perhaps a few gunships as well."

"Meaning we'll have to rely heavily on our anti-air capacities." General Huffman sighed. "We barely have an air force left, and the remainders are currently locked in dogfights with the imperials in the sky. Make sure to distribute enough AA rockets launchers among our troops, as well as position Wolverines at the back of our lines. We can't completely neutralize the airborne threat, but it'll have to do."

Kowalski nodded in understanding, "I'll make the necessary arrangements."

The whole marine corps knew of how the Empire favored using TIE fighters for CAS in large amounts, but it was also a commonly known fact that the TIE fighter was incredibly fragile. A single well-placed rocket could blow a starfighter out of the sky. Even better, a Wolverine would be the bane of existence for any TIE pilot ordered to make a strafing run.

"Good. Now, as for their walkers and floating tanks, we'll have to rely on our gauss cannons that we're setting up along our trench lines. Those things are the only anti-tank cannons that we have in our arsenal. The 38th Armored Battalion has plenty of armor-piercing shells left, the last time I checked, so that should do." The older man mused before adding wryly, "Besides, if all else fails, our marines can switch to their good old SPNKR rocket launchers."

"Quite right, sir." Kowalski chuckled.

With the whole planet under siege, diverting UNSC assets had become a complete nightmare. It was a small mercy that the Empire did not have enough star destroyers in orbit to supply bombardment to its forces down below. As it was, only a handful of support ships were hovering above Vosemia, while the other imperial vessels were patrolling the system in case of an UNSC retaliation.

Ferrying supplies and the likes had become a stressful endeavor; the imperials weren't opposed to sending out aircraft to bomb all highways and bridges across the planet, meaning that trucks could only reach destinations that were close by. Kowalski had insight in the logistics of their unit – being part of the general's personal staff – and knew that they had only enough food and munitions to last them a week at most.

And that was a very optimistic estimation.

The same thing could be said for troop management. The 38th Armored Battalion had almost been unable to support them due to initial bombardment by the imperial air force, but luckily one of the roads had been left untouched, allowing the Scorpion tanks of the 38th to arrive in time. They were being set up along the marines and dug in for a steadfast defense.

"Alright, there's nothing else to cover on that subject. Have our sentries in the forests reported any incursions yet?" The general spoke up as he paced around the table.

Kowalski shook his head, "The area is clear for now. Aside from the occasional scout trooper or probe droid, the Empire hasn't sent in any troops as of yet. However, that might change soon when they finish preparing their base."

"They're trying to get a better feel of the terrain. Huh, so they're not going to charge in recklessly this time then." Huffman mused quietly. The gears in the man's mind were turning, and the short silence meant that he was analyzing this information, "We're dealing with a competent commander for once. Not those glory-seeking types that we come across occasionally."

"How so, sir?"

"Well, for starters, this guy decided to choose a position that has natural defenses against any sort of counterattack." The general gestured towards the map with a wrinkled hand, "Then he chose to set up a base properly to make sure that future assaults would run smoothly and that his staging area is well-defended against possible air raids. Not to mention the bombardment of our infrastructure, the reconnaissance efforts to map out the terrain…" A sigh escaped his lips, "Needless to say, the imperials are preparing themselves for a siege. They're making sure that their supply lines are in order, and with their defense they'll be able to act aggressively, while we'll be put on the defense."

Kowalski slowly understood what his superior meant; the imperials knew they didn't have enough support – both from the air and orbit – to charge in with blitzkrieg tactics. Instead, the enemy was preparing themselves to hammer down on the UNSC defenders, and slowly chip away at their walls. Such tactics were uncommon among a substantial number of imperial commanders.

Their conversation was interrupted, however, as a new figure approached the holotable. Wearing an officer's uniform that was in pristine condition, as well as a green cap that matched the outfit, Kowalski recognized the woman as colonel Vivian Chase, who was also part of the general's personal staff and in addition his second-in-command. She had dark skin and dark hair, but her eyes were as green as the grass in a lush meadow.

The colonel walked up to them and immediately saluted, "Colonel Vivian Chase, reporting for duty."

"At ease. We don't have time for the formalities." Huffman waved away her concerns for professionalism, but made sure to show his appreciation of the gesture as he nodded respectfully, "What's the status with our artillery, Chase?"

"The Kodiaks have been positioned where you requested them to be, sir. Captain Bradford told me has a view on the areas several kilometers in front of our forces, and they're making some last-minute checks now. There's plenty of ammunition for them to use, plus I've arranged two trucks to move any additional shells from the fort to them if needed." The female officer responded dutifully.

"Precisely what I was hoping to hear. Well done, Chase."

Kowalski would feel sorry for the imperials if they hadn't decided to lay waste to the planet. If there was anything that a soldier feared, then it was a precise artillery bombardment, which the Kodiaks were known for. The imperial soldiers would experience hell on earth if they came in the firing range of those artillery units.

"My pleasure, sir." Colonel Chase replied neutrally.

"Any status updates on our defenses?" Huffman asked next, picking up his mug of coffee.

The colonel was quick to deliver, "We're nearly done with setting up everything. All bunkers have been delivered by our pilots, and word from the field is that all trenches have been prepared. There's just a few turrets left, but those should be finished in an hour or so. The men will be ready for whatever the imperials throw at them."

"They'd better, because we're all that stands between the Empire and the capital." The general deadpanned before taking a sip, "If we don't hold the enemy here, countless civilian lives will be at stake, and Vosemia will fall before our backup arrives."

"Do you really think they're coming, general?" Kowalski asked, sounding more nervous than he would have liked.

There were a few seconds of silence before he received his answer, "We have to assume they will. Otherwise this fight will be over quickly."

"That bad?" Chase spoke up, more curious than unnerved.

The elder officer shrugged his broad shoulders, "We need to look at this realistically; the Empire controls space, and they're contesting for the air. Right now, all we have is the ground, and even that's not certain. I have faith in our men to do their duties and hold the line. However, I also know that the imperials aren't pushovers like many believe them to be. They'll throw everything they have at us – be it a walker or their goddamn kitchen sink – and we're going to lose a lot of men as a result, which we can't afford since we won't receive any reinforcements."

There was no fear or anger in the general's voice, as far as Kowalski could hear. If anything, the man barely had any emotion in his voice, sounding more like was simply delivering a fact. In a manner of speaking, that was actually quite accurate. The Empire had a lot of fanatical soldiers in its ranks. Storm troopers often lived up to their names by charging towards the enemy, disregarding their own lives in favor of the cause. They made for better targets, but some were bound to get lucky or have the skills to back up their commitment; the result was not pretty for the UNSC defenders, as well as the Empire itself at times.

With that in mind, Kowalski could understand the emotionless tone of the general. A wave of relief and sympathy washed over him. While he was glad that he wouldn't be in danger of having to face a horde of storm troopers anytime soon, his fellow marines on the frontlines wouldn't be so lucky.

* * *

_Bad weather is on the horizon. We're going to be in for a treat._

Sergeant Tiberio Malkin, sergeant of the 71st Imperial Army Corps, grumbled to himself as he stared at the sky from his spot on the road of dirt inside the imperial base. Being a native to an agricultural planet, he had learned how to predict the weather from his father; a seasoned farmer back home.

Tiberio had been a farmer once too. However, that all changed after pirates had raided his people's lands, pillaging and murdering citizens left and right. His own father had died at the hands of a pirate, and as his farm burned to ashes, Malkin had realized that there was nothing left for him on his world.

Instead, he visited the nearest imperial recruitment office and joined the military. After five years of dedicated service, he had become a sergeant in the 71st Imperial Army Corps, fighting for the glory of the Empire and the security of its citizens. His life was now in function of making sure that scum such as the pirates on that particular day could no longer threaten the order that the Empire imposed.

And now, his duty had brought him here to Vosemia; a UNSC colony that stood in the Empire's way.

Malkin gazed at his surroundings, noticing that the base was coming along quite nicely. The pre-fabricated buildings had already been set up; the barracks were lined up in an organized manner, the motor pool was housing their armor, the utility buildings were being filled with supplies, and the command building was bristling with activity. His boots marched over the loose soil beneath his feet as he headed over to the barracks.

Hundreds of imperials walked around him, fulfilling their own assigned tasks with an impressive efficiency. Malkin gave a nod to a pair of guards that strolled by him. They returned the gesture out of respect as their chins almost touched the breathing apparatuses of their helmets. No imperial army trooper ever wore those things outside of combat; not only was it unconventional, but it also took away any fresh air and condemned the wearer to inhale stale oxygen. Both men carried their standard-issued E-22 blaster rifles in parade rest as they patrolled the compounds.

If there was one thing that the imperial army took pride in, then it was how fast and efficiently they could set up an FOB. Everything was well-organized to the point that even a blind man could find his way throughout the base.

Inside the motor pool, all vehicles were positioned according to type and role. Rows upon rows of dormant AT-STs were huddled together, and next to them were the repulsorlift-powered vehicles; the sturdy 2-M hover tank, as well as the reliable ITT. Engineers were swarming around the machines, making sure that they would be in perfect condition for the upcoming assaults. The last thing they needed was a malfunctioning leg component in a walker, or a problem with a tank's blaster cannon.

Standing proudly at the end of the motor pool, looming over the rest of the much smaller armored vehicles, were three iconic AT-ATs; the epitome of imperial walker doctrine. Of course, Malkin had fought alongside those for a long time, and knew that three AT-ATs wouldn't be enough. They'd be prime targets for UNSC artillery and anti-tank weapons. He also knew that general Lott wouldn't commit those walkers just yet; the imperial infantry would have to soften up those defenses first, and only then they could move in with the giant walkers.

"What a pain in the ass…" The sergeant muttered, shaking his head at the sight of the three AT-ATs.

His ears tingled as the familiar whine of an ion engine boomed in the air. Malkin raised his head, seeing two TIE fighters fly by above the FOB. The small airstrip had also been completed only a few hours ago, and the pilots were already in the air to provide security. The familiar sight of TIE fighters flying above his head always filled him with a sense of safety.

"No! Don't connect the blue cable to the red one! Do you want the lights inside the barrack to explode?!"

Malkin raised his eyebrows at the angry shouts, as did a few other servicemen who were nearby. The noise came from two imperial technicians, both of them working on a power panel linked to one of the barracks that housed the soldiers. From what he could see – and clearly hear due to the volume – was that one of them was messing up.

"But you just said-" The technician who was crouched next to the panel began, only to be cut off by his senior.

"No, I told you to connect it to the green one! By the emperor, how deaf are you?" The other black-clad man said exasperatedly.

Well, that was a situation he wasn't going to get in between. Malkin shook his head as he left the scene, continuing onwards to his destination; he still had a squad to brief. Despite most of the base being completed, there were still a few things that needed fixing, and one of those were the lights inside a handful of barracks. Luckily all power generators were already up and running, so the issue should be fixed in the evening or so.

The army sergeant walked further towards his own barracks, crossing paths with numerous soldiers. They chatted among themselves or walked in silence, and he didn't notice any nervousness in any of them. Sure, everyone had their thoughts about what was going to happen, but morale was as high as it could be. However, Malkin wondered how that would keep up once their first engagement with the UNSC begins. Having fought the UNSC marine corps before, he knew they were going to suffer considerable losses.

Malkin was deep in thoughts as he contemplated their chance, but paid enough attention to his surroundings to see he almost bumped into someone. He looked up and saw that it wasn't a person, but actually a droid.

The KX-series security droid regarded him for a split second before resuming its patrol. The tall, lanky droid was followed by two more as they patrolled the area. Each droid carried an E-5C heavy blaster, which was a rare weapon for an imperial to have. After all, these blasters have been around for decades, all the way back to the Clone Wars. Makin knew why the security droids had them though; they were easy and cheap to manufacture, and the overheating problem that it was known for had little effect on droids as long as the weapon didn't melt down.

He stood there silently as he watched the droids march. In the past, it would have been a very rare occurrence for a security droid – which was actually a battle droid despite what the manufactures said – to be part of an imperial assault; much less an invasion force. Malkin didn't know all of the details, but apparently high command had decided that the addition of droid forces would bolster the imperial armies and produce more results.

He wasn't going to complain; the droids could be as lethal as a regular soldier, and if a droid took a bullet for one of his men then that was a resource well-spent. The KX-series often joined in during a battle, while security was left to organic guards and their droid cousins; the imperial sentry droid. The latter wasn't as agile as the more mobile KX-series, but far more durable. Malkin didn't care that much in the end. Leave the droid tinkering to the engineers.

As he neared the barracks, he spotted a lone figure sitting on a stack of crates. Normally this wouldn't catch his attention, but the fact that the army soldier belonged to his own squad made him pause. The soldier was also wearing mostly green armor that every army trooper possessed, with the sole exception that he lacked the helmet.

"Blakes, what are you doing out here?" Malkin asked the trooper, stopping next to the crates.

His subordinate looked up from a datapad with a startled expression, "Oh, sarge. I'm just reading a message from home."

"I see." Malkin hummed, staring at the datapad before turning his gaze back to the private, "Any particular reason why you're not in the barracks for this?"

"Lin and Doi are back at it again. I prefer to read my letters in silence, so I decided to come out here." Blakes shrugged.

Malkin resisted the urge to groan out load. Lin and Doi were also part of 5th squad, but they had more arguments than a married couple. Their bickering was legendary among the platoon, and despite his efforts they still couldn't stop themselves from bickering over the most silliest topics. He'd have thrown them under a walker ages ago if they weren't excellent support gunners.

"Seems about right. Not even I have enough patience to put up with that." He nodded in understanding. He could already feel the headache approaching, "So how's the family?"

Blakes smiled, showing the mirth in his eyes, "They're doing great. Dad's surgery went without any problems, and my little sister graduated five days ago. She's already been promised a position at a major biotech company in their research department. She can't stop saying how excited she is in the letter."

"Good to hear." Malkin grinned, patting the younger man on the shoulder, "Next time we're on leave, we'll go celebrate the occasions; both your dad's recovery and your sister's graduation."

"I can't wait for it!" The private laughed heartily.

Malkin joined in, yet deep in his mind he wondered if they would be around to celebrate. After all, the battle would be fierce and devastating, and their platoon was going in first.

* * *

"There are still UNSC ships lurking around in the system, Lott. I cannot provide any orbital support unless the plan is to leave us vulnerable. You will have to make do with what you have."

He wasn't angry, and neither was he happy. No, the emotion that he currently felt was different. It was one that he regularly felt whenever he had to talk to Pierce; how that man had become an admiral in the imperial navy, he would never know nor understand. The sheer stupidity of the person that he was talking to was mindboggling. It carefully gnawed away at his patience, which was beginning to run out with every damn word that left the admiral's mouth.

If you had to choose a specific mood, then you could say that general Arndall Lott was pissed. The people inside the main HQ's command center knew this, staying away to avoid pissing him off even further.

"And as I've told you," He said with restrained frustration as he spoke through clenched teeth, "I can't follow the schedule that I've been given if I don't have orbital support. The UNSC has had plenty of time to dig in, and I'm only able to attack from one spot. They know this without a doubt, and they'll have set up a wall of defenses that will be a kriffing hell to break through. I need that support!"

He slammed his fist on the holotable for good measure, causing the projected image of admiral Pierce to flicker for a brief moment. Tension hung in the air; Pierce and he didn't mix, and the persistent claims that the admiral needed all of his ships for patrolling the system was a load of bantha poodoo in his opinion. While he was army and didn't know much about naval operations, he did know that the fleet assigned to the invasion force was big enough to spare at least a light cruiser, if not an actual star destroyer.

"You know my answer." Pierce said curtly, chin held high as if he was better than him, "That will be all."

The holoprojector dimmed as the officer ended the conversation. Lott placed his hands on the table and took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger in front of his subordinates. While he wasn't the most professional general in the imperial army – as many of his colleagues could attest to – he wasn't unhinged enough to go on a rampage like an idiot child.

"Well, that could have gone better." He looked up and gave his second-in-command a flat look.

"You don't say." His tone couldn't have been drier as he rolled his eyes, to which the colonel shrugged.

"Just saying; we both know the admiral's as stupid as they can get, so why should we surprised by this outcome?" Livton offered in a carefree manner that would have made other officers frown. Lott didn't give a damn. His subordinate got him results, which was all that mattered, "Still though, it's going to be difficult if all we have are transports and light carriers. Those are only good for a sensor scan; not a bombardment."

Lott sighed, "I know that. However, if that nerfherder is going to hoard all of our ships, then I can't do anything about it."

He crossed his arms, both black sleeves blending in with the dimly lit commander center. Other officers preferred wearing their crisp and clean uniforms, but as for him? Arndall chose to wear his black field armor, with helmet and blaster firmly attached. He didn't care much for the formal dress uniform; it restricted too much movement.

The damn collar also itched incredibly like hell.

"So what are we going to do now then?" Livton asked next.

Arndall grunted as he pulled out a cigarette from his pouch, "Despite the best attempts of our scouts, we haven't made much progress in spying on our foe's defenses. All of the probe droids that we sent out were destroyed by sentries in the woods, and there've been three skirmishes between them and our scout troopers. We've caught glimpses of a large entrenched position filled with UNSC marines though. In addition, the intel on the terrain retrieved by our scouting parties and recorded by our sensors will be put to good use."

"How so?" The colonel asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Lott keyed a command in the holotable, causing it to change as an outline of the Valtawa Wilds – as the locals called it – was brought up, "I briefed Maelstrom Battalion of your 1st regiment an hour ago. I would have passed the orders through you, but you were preoccupied with offloading the rest of your men."

"Fair enough." Livton nodded.

"Yeah, well, your men will advance through the wilds at approximately 1500 hours." The general continued, exhaling smoke as he relished the cigarette. He gestured towards the tree line that went through the forest, "Their task is to clear out any sentries that they find, and probe the enemy's defenses. I want to know what we're up against; just looking through a pair of binoculars won't do, but a short attack will."

His second-in-command seemed to understand what he was getting at, "Maelstrom Battalion will test the UNSC's strength before pulling back quickly. That way we can get a feeling for how strong their position is. Alright, seems about right. What comes after that, though?"

"Then the fun part begins." Lott grinned sinisterly, "I've already marked a perfect position for our engineers to start digging a trench line and set up fortifications. Not only will it serve as a forward outpost, but it's also a spot where we can position our AV-7 cannons."

The AV-7 cannon was an artillery piece that dated back to the Clone Wars. It was a large cannon that stood on four legs and could be used as an anti-vehicle cannon as well, though it did an excellent job as artillery support. Back during the Clone Wars, the cannons had been partially responsible in securing a major defeat for the separatist forces on the planet of Christophsis, and the imperial army hadn't phased them out just yet like they had done with other republic vehicles.

In Arndall's opinion, it was a foolish decision to throw away perfect equipment such as the LAAT or AT-RT. While the latter was still sparsely used by certain scout trooper divisions, the former was an excellent gunship that could serve many roles and excel at them, but it hadn't been decommissioned years ago. At least he had his AV-7 cannons; they were effective enough and were easier to move through the forest than the Self-Propelled Medium Artillery walker.

"You're planning on bombarding them with our artillery first; Maelstrom Battalion can supply us with better coordinates, and then it's just up to the cannons to soften them up." Colonel Livton nodded in agreement, "Sounds effective enough. Do you want me to prepare the rest of the 1st Regiment?"

"Have them stand by in case we need them. Tomorrow the rest of our troops will arrive, and then we'll launch an all-out offensive." The general said as he exhaled another cloud of smoke.

The lower ranked officer raised an eyebrow in curiosity, "Who are we expecting?"

"The 4th Galactic Marines Regiment is supposed to arrive by midday, and they'll be accompanied by the 26th and 32nd Shock Trooper Battalions." Lott explained. The imperial general leaned against the table as he glanced at the map, "The Galactic Marines are used to fighting in hazardous environments, and they are some of the best soldiers in the entire Stormtrooper Corps. As for the shock troopers, I requested them since I expect heavy fortifications, and they excel at breaking through an enemy's defenses."

"Well, I know that the 44th Armored Battalion has already set up shop in the motor pool, but I didn't expect this many troops for just one location." Livton said, slightly in awe; that was at least 3000 more soldiers in addition to their armored units and the 71st Army Corps.

Lott grimaced, knowing that he would need every last one of those soldiers. The war between the UEG and Empire was going on for more than a year already, and there was no clear end in sight as of yet. That didn't surprise him; wars tended to last for years, but the problem was that neither side could gain the advantage. The Empire had larger numbers and could afford to lose assets, but the lack of intel on UNSC worlds was what made the conquest so slow.

Vosemia was one such worlds, and the Terrans would defend it valiantly as they had done before on other colony worlds. Lott was privy to the casualty numbers, being a high-ranking officer with almost unlimited access to the reports, and to say that they were bad would be an understatement. It took entire legions to pacify a single planet. The reason why he had requested such a large amount of forces – and that they would be elite forces – was that he knew it would be extremely difficult to get past the enemy, seeing as this was his only ticket to the capital city.

"Let's hope they'll be enough then." He said after a while, already through half of his cigarette. His staff was competent enough to put an ashtray on the holotable, and he dropped a burnt stump in it, "High command wants us to secure this world as soon as possible. The navy has had problems with ferrying supplies due to UNSC convoy raiding, and this colony can be turned into a new supply depot; it should make it easier to supply our comrades on nearby worlds."

At that, the colonel sighed, "Easy for them to say. They haven't had the pleasure of being shot at by a UNSC-made rifle; I still have the scar. Not to mention those poor bastards in the navy… Can't imagine how terrifying it must be to be shot at by one of those MAC cannons that the Terrans love to use."

"Force be with them." Lott agreed, showing respect to the poor sailors aboard the star destroyers.

"Better start praying for us too, sir. Vosemia is going to be a tough fight."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Vosemia, Valtawa Wilds **_

_**5**__**th**__** July, 14:30 hours**_

The Valtawa Wilds was a beautiful place. Vosemia wasn't the best world out there to colonize in the galaxy, but it had its gems of natural beauty. Sturdy trees formed large forests, hills dotted the landscape almost lazily, wildlife thrived here and the Valtawa Wilds had a calmness to it that soothed the mind. The leaves of the trees were beginning to take on brownish or reddish colors as the seasons dictated, and a soft breeze blew against them; some fell as a result.

Private Haio Blakes would have loved to sit back and paint the scenario. Painting was a hobby of his, one that he had taken up during his childhood. He wasn't the best painter out there, but he liked to think that he was above average. Painting was an art that many people didn't appreciate much during the time of a modern galaxy. However, it was still there, and Haio was proud to say that he contributed with his own works.

He always found inspiration in nature itself, such as the Valtawa Wilds. The galaxy was filled with worlds that had different natures, some dark and foreboding such as the shadow world of Umbara, while some were vibrant and bizarre like Felucia. If he hadn't joined the imperial military, he would have definitely bought a ship to travel to these worlds and capture their beauty with his tools.

Perhaps he would get a chance to paint this place. However, with the war raging on that would become very difficult, seeing as his current mission spelled doom for the Valtawa Wilds.

"Keep your eyes open. The UNSC assigned sentries to guard this place, and there's no telling where they might be hiding." Haio heard the sergeant say, leading their squad from the front.

The group of imperial army troopers marched carefully through the forest, wary of their surroundings and careful not to stumble over the terrain. Haio had to put his boot a bit to the left in order to avoid a particularly stubborn tree root that had grown out of the ground. His green armor blended in slightly with the terrain, but he hadn't put on his mask yet; his protective goggles were enough for now.

"I heard they ambushed one of our patrols two hours ago." Their RTO commented from the middle. Private Jey Ikaro, the squad's radio operator, was of a similar age to Blakes but had served for a longer period of time. The Corellian sighed empathetically, "Poor lads. Only three of them managed to get away, and lost two of their guys as a result."

"That's the risk of being a scout trooper. They're the ones who have to recon the area, which makes them a nice target for the UNSC." Sergeant Malkin responded gruffly.

Haio tightened his grip on his E-22 blaster rifle a little tighter. News like this wasn't uncommon among the barracks, and of course everyone had heard about the ambushed patrols of scout troops that had returned to the base, carrying wounded and dead men on their speederbikes. It was hard not to.

"Yeah, well, I'm going to make sure the bastards will pay for it." Gaio Doi grumbled from their left.

Doi was a brute of a man, who also had a temper that wasn't to be messed with. Haio knew him well enough to know that Doi wouldn't hurt anyone, but he was so outspoken and passionate with his opinions that it sometimes looked that way. It didn't help his image that he was tall, bulky and carried his Z-6 rotary blaster cannon like it weighed nothing. In fact, Haio had seen the man swing it around like a bat once, and he did not want to be on the receiving end of such a strike.

To complete the stereotypical image, he looked like a thug from Coruscant under his helmet and visor. He was bald, had a square jaw, two scars on his left cheek that ran down to his chin and a tattoo on the other one. It was a good thing that Doi could be as gentle as a mouse droid because otherwise Haio would have been terrified of him.

"That's a lot of boasting, Doi. I hope you can actually back it up." A softer, accented voice spoke from next to Haio. The soldier to his right wore the same armor as he did, but the curves underneath resembled him in no way, "Otherwise you'd make us look bad, and we have no intention of losing to the Stormtrooper Corps."

He suppressed a sigh as Lin spoke, already knowing how Doi would respond to such a thing. She and Doi were the heavies of their squad; both were equipped with heavy weaponry, and knew how to use those with a deadly efficiency. Lin's narrow eyes were exposed to the outside world as she did not wear her goggles, though her helmet was firmly secured to her head and a piece of cloth covered her mouth. There was even a spare blaster cartridge strapped to the right side.

While Doi carried his Z-6 with him at all times, so did Lin with her DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle. It was considerably lighter than the much heavier rotary blaster, but she easily held the heavy weapon in her hands with a fondness similar to a mother and her child. To be honest, Haio didn't know what to think of that.

"Oi, what was that?" Doi growled as he glared at her, looking past Haio.

"Both of you, shut it!" Malkin intervened sharply, "I don't care if you bicker in the barracks, but I won't tolerate it out in the field. Keep your mouths shut and your eyes up front. Got it?"

"Yes, sarge."

"Roger that."

The two of them fell silent at the same time, knowing full well not to argue with their commanding officer. Haio noticed idly that the sergeant had lied a little. After all, he did very much mind the arguing inside the barracks; they all did.

Ikaro sighed as he shook his head, "You two are impossible."

"The fact that you've realized that only now is concerning." A feminine voice from behind deadpanned.

"Cut him some slack, Saresh. Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing." Haio came to their RTO's defense, glancing at the squad's medic.

By far their shortest member, Saresh shrugged her narrow shoulders in an uncaring manner. She was the shortest of them all, but that didn't stop her from carrying her backpack filled with medical supplies without complaint. Saresh was… unique, if Haio had to be honest. She could be as blunt as a hammer and as uncaring about someone as a Hutt, but Saresh would always be there to patch them up whenever they got hurt.

Still, she could be a bit less sadistic during treatments. Whereas others would have feared needles, she seemed to love them; probably because she was the one who got to use them.

"Sarge is right though." Ikaro said after a while, "These UNSC marines know how to prepare a proper ambush. We must have the worst luck in the entire army to be the ones who get to go first."

Haio chuckled, "You're afraid?"

"You aren't?" Came the counter response from the RTO.

"Never said I wasn't."

He chuckled as Ikaro flipped him off; a gesture that the imperial soldiers had learned from their UNSC captives. They were just joking around of course. No one in fifth squad ever got in a fight, unless it was against storm troopers. The imperial army and the imperial Stormtrooper Corps had a bit of a rivalry, which sometimes led to brawls inside cantinas, and those had then to be broken up by the MPs.

"Very funny, Blakes. Remind me to set your next painting on fire." Ikaro pointed threateningly at him.

Lin turned to glare at the shorter soldier, "Hell no, I happen to like those, thank you very much. If you even think about setting them on fire, I'll personally drive a scout walker over you – and you know that's a promise."

"Guess someone has a fan." Doi remarked slyly, grinning as Lin shifted her glare over to him. Of course, it did little to faze the brute of a man, "Well, can't blame ya. Even I have to admit that Blakes makes some damn fine work. I might get my mum one when we get off this planet."

Sergeant Malkin chose this as his moment to intervene once more, "If you dedicate all that energy you spent blabbering your mouth, we might kill those marines a bit earlier, and then we can go home. However, you'll shut your damn mouths until then."

"Someone's a bit agitated today." Saresh muttered under her breath, though Haio managed to pick it up.

He had to admit that she had a point. Sergeant Malkin was usually alright – as far as sergeants went – and earlier today he had been semi-relaxed, but now he seemed tense, scanning the area carefully and finger close to his blaster's trigger. Did the UNSC really worry him that much? Their unit had fought marines before, and while those fights had been gruesome and hard, they had still managed to walk away; albeit with wounds and scratches.

His sergeant was probably worried about being ambushed by the enemy. Just as Ikaro had mentioned, the UNSC marines knew how to ambush larger groups – especially in areas like this. However, Haio trusted in their comrades of their battalion to help in case of such an attack. The three other platoons of their company were close by, ready to come to their aid if the enemy showed itself.

Haio's gaze pierced through the forest's foliage as he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Now that everyone was quiet again, he began to understand why sergeant Malkin was so tense; something felt wrong. The forest was as peaceful as it had been minutes ago, when he had contemplated on how well it would pose for a painting, but now there was something that made the treeline feel unsafe. He wouldn't be surprised if he shot an animal for jumping out of a bush; his nerves were acting up.

Luckily his training kicked in, and carefully drilled-in discipline prevented him from jumping a meter in the air from even the slightest rustle of leaves. Instead, he observed his surroundings like his superior and waited for any signs of the enemy.

"Man, this is beginning to creep me out." Ikaro muttered quietly, equally unnerved.

Lin nodded in agreement, "We should have come across those sentries by now. We already passed a location where they ambushed one of our scouting parties."

Everyone was becoming wary, and Haio wondered if they were about to engage hostiles; it certainly felt like that. His gaze drifted over to sergeant Malkin, who's face was partially obscured, though he got a glimpse of the grim expression that the man wore. They weren't alone in this.

They came across a small creek further ahead in the forest as they moved onwards. It was quite small though, not very deep either. The water didn't flow very fast and was actually very clear, allowing him to see the round stones that lied underneath the stream. Some of the water flowed into a tiny pond where the local wildlife probably came to drink from in order to sate their thirst. A handful of flowers blossomed alongside the ridges of the pond, brightening up the place with a multitude of colors.

Haio thought it looked beautiful. He squashed the sigh that threatened to escape his lips; he would have loved to paint the creek, the pond and the flowers – even the animals if they were here. However, it didn't seem like that would happen.

His attention was quickly diverted to the figures that emerged from their left side. For a moment he was about to raise his blaster rifle, but it didn't take long to recognize the imperial uniforms that the soldiers wore. He also saw that the leading figure was corporal Sassta; the squad's corporal. These were the rest of their squad.

"Sassta, you're supposed to be keeping your distance." Malkin spoke up from his spot next to the creek, "We need to spread out to comb out the forest, remember?"

"Sorry, sarge. There was a large boulder in the way, and we had no choice but to head this way." The lower-ranked army trooper apologized immediately.

"Well, as long as you-"

CRACK!

Haio crouched in record time, eyes wide open as he recognized the sound as the gunfire from a UNSC-issued marksman rifle. Everyone followed his example, except for corporal Sassta; his body fell on the grass with a hole in chest, blood spilling out.

"Ambush!"

Sergeant Malkin swore loudly, "Stay low and return fire! Get me a direction of where that came from now!"

Gunfire erupted all around him, bullets flying over their heads as the UNSC sentries finally made their presence known. Haio crawled over to a nearby tree and propped his back against the sturdy bark, using the tree as cover. He held his E-22 close to his chest as he took a deep breath to calm himself. Slowly he glanced over his shoulder and past the tree trunk, trying to find the enemy.

Up ahead, in the bushes somewhat to their right; muzzle flashes.

"Enemy infantry bearing one-twenty!" He called out to the others.

However, his shouting turned him into a fresh target, and Haio missed being pierced by a bullet by mere inches as he dove back into cover, narrowly dodging the enemy's gunfire. He hadn't had time to count how many, but at least they now knew where the enemy was.

"You heard him!" Their sergeant yelled over all the noise. Malkin was steadfast and unwavering as he raised his blaster rifle, "Light them up!"

The imperial army soldiers simultaneously aimed towards the enemy's position and opened fire, exchanging ruby-colored energy bolts with the UNSC sentries. The ambush turned into a full-blown skirmish between the two sides. Haio took another breath, calmed his nerves and recalled his training, and then aimed past the tree to join in.

The stock of his rifle pushed back against his shoulder as the weapon fired off bolt after bolt, accompanied by the familiar whine of a blaster bolt that whizzed through the air. He didn't know for sure that he actually hit any of the targets. The sentries were difficult to spot, and being a target somewhat limited his vision as he was regularly shot at, forcing him to get back behind his cover.

"Kriff, where did these guys come from?!" Ikaro shouted from his own cover, a large log where he had hidden himself.

Saresh, who was crouched next to the RTO, growled loudly, "They were already there, numbnuts! They just waited for the right opportunity, and they took it when Sassta showed up."

A scream from their left announced the death of another soldier, also part of the other fireteam. Haio was just in time to see the trooper fall into the pond, causing the water to ripple and splash. The man's blood soon began to mix with the previously clean water, which was now soiled by his fleeing lifeforce.

"Lin, get us suppressive fire, now!" Sergeant Malkin ordered.

"On it!" The heavy trooper responded not a moment later.

Lin lied down on her belly in the grass, placing the bipod of her DLT-19 on the ground before unleashing hell on their foes. The very instant she pulled the trigger of her heavy blaster rifle, a torrent of red blaster bolts exited the barrel towards the UNSC marines. Lin's main goal was obviously not to kill anyone; while that was of course one of her goals, her primary objective was to gain fire superiority and suppress them.

Seeing as some of the enemy guns fell silent, meaning that Lin's suppressive fire had to be working. The others took this as their chance to step up and take proper aim instead of haphazardly firing at the bushes. Now that they knew where the enemy was, they had a much better view of them. Haio could see the camouflaged marines through the foliage, brandishing projectile weapons that were a hundred times more advanced than back in their galaxy.

One of the sentries cried out in agonizing pain as Lin's DLT-19 hit its mark, blasting a burnt hole in the man's upper torso. He fell back in pain and shock, but that only allowed more blaster bolts to slam into him, the kinetic impact causing the now lifeless body to spasm as it went down. Lin didn't give any sound of happiness or satisfaction; her face was devoid of emotion, the stock of her heavy blaster shaking her shoulder as she kept firing.

"Ikaro, contact the lieutenant and tell him we've made contact with the enemy." Sergeant Malkin turned to their RTO, who immediately activated the commpack on his back, "Tell him we need backup."

Ikaro nodded before getting on the comms, "Squad one, this is squad three. We've made contact with the enemy and require backup. How copy? Over."

"_Squad three, this is squad one. Solid copy, we've had similar reports. Stand by." _There was a short pause, lasting almost half a minute. Ikaro waited patiently for a response even as gunfire poured down on his cover, _"Squad three, squad four is moving to assist. ETA two to three minutes. Over."_

"Copy that, squad one. We'll hold until then. Out."

"Ikaro, what did they say?!" Malkin demanded to know.

The RTO quickly responded, "They're sending in squad four to help us!"

Haio felt relieved upon hearing that they were going to be reinforced. They had already lost two men, and from what he could see, Saresh was hard at work treating a wounded trooper. The man was bleeding from the upper thigh where a bullet had gone clean through, and blood was flowing freely from the injury. Luckily their medic was on the job, applying a bandage to stop the bleeding.

He aimed down his scope again, determined to fight hard to prevent any more deaths. No one was firing at him anymore, allowing the army trooper to find himself a target to shoot at. He spotted movement close to a tree, which turned out to come from a UNSC marine who was firing at the others. Haio knew what he had to do.

His blaster whined three times.

The first energy bolt went past the marine's head, doing nothing more than warming the Terran up and scorching his armor. However, the second one hit him straight in the throat, burning his vocal chords and most of his throat away; a fatal wound. The third bolt hit his shoulder, but the man's eyes had turned lifeless by then, and he dropped like a brick.

Haio got back into cover and took a deep breath. He was fortunate to have hit his target, and he felt satisfied at the small form of retaliation.

"Grenade out!" Doi yelled, throwing a thermal detonator at the UNSC marines.

There was a brief delay before the explosive went off, detonating in a bright flash and deafening explosion. Shouts came from the sentries as they were throw around by the shockwave. One of the marines had been unfortunate enough to be positioned close to the thermal detonator, and his mangled body flew through the air before landing in the middle between the two factions, missing an entire leg and ripped apart in various places.

"Take that, you kriffing bastards." Malkin growled loudly.

Ikaro echoed his statement, "Hell yeah! Nice throw, Doi."

The gunfire was beginning to quiet down; despite having lost two men and two more sustaining injuries, the imperial army troopers were pushing back against the ambushers. Their blaster rifles were relentless, especially in Doi and Lin's cases, mowing down any resistance with their heavy blasters. Haio had to momentarily halt his fire as the barrel of his rifle hissed from the heat.

As the fighting continued, they managed to not lose anyone else to the marines. Eventually the enemy shouted in surprise as more army troopers attacked their flank, taking them completely off-guard. With their cover thrown aside, and reinforcements coming in to reinforce the imperials, the UNSC sentries were quickly taken out of commission, not a single soldier remaining in the end as they were all but annihilated.

Haio slowly got up as the battle ended. It hadn't lasted a full ten minutes, yet it felt much longer than that to him. He saw the others get up as well, picking up their weapons and examining themselves for any injuries. Saresh had already patched up the wounded, applying bacta-patches and bandages to them, and Doi had taken it up on himself to lay their fallen to each other. All in all, they had been very lucky to react quickly to the enemy threat, but they had still lost men to the enemy.

Lin walked over to the corpses of the UNSC marines before spitting on one, kicking it for good measure, "Kriffing Terrans… they're going to pay for that."

"All in due time, Lin." Their sergeant promised her, his dark eyes glaring at the enemy's lifeless bodies. He glanced at corporal Sassta and the other fallen trooper, muttering an almost inaudible curse under his breath, before turning to the other squad, "Thanks for bailing us out here. These sentries were waiting for us, lying in the bushes to take us by surprise."

The other squad's leader stepped forward, his face hidden by both his visor and mask, "Other squads experienced the same thing. We've got orders to sweep through the forest, clean out any resistance we can find and continue forward. We'll be accompanying you."

"Alright, understood." Malkin nodded as he turned to his men, "Everyone, prepare to move out. Fall in behind me."

The combined might of two squads took a moment to gather, then they marched on through the forest. The mood was tense, which was understandable considering what they had just gone through a short while ago, and everyone kept scanning their surroundings for more enemies.

Haio sighed as he trekked through the forest.

* * *

_**Vosemia, first defensive line**_

_**5**__**th**__** July, 16:12 hours**_

BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.

Bryan could hear the loud dull noise of Schwartzman's SAW echo inside his own head, shaking his brain as a loud crescendo of sounds assaulted his eardrums. His own assault rifle was part of this, firing a three bullet burst for better accuracy, as to reach the imperial soldiers down the hill, who were trapped at the treeline.

It had begun only a few minutes ago. Maybe ten? Twelve? Bryan hadn't kept track of the time. All he could focus on were the enemies up ahead, and he quelled any thought of stopping to take a breath. This was his first firefight; his nerves were causing his whole body to go tense, and it was through hard effort that he didn't freeze up.

Regardless, the imperials had showed up a while ago, appearing alongside the treeline with weapons at the ready, clearly here to fight. The land between both factions was lit up by blaster fire and bullets, spelling certain doom for anyone unlucky enough to be in the path of one of these. No one close to him had died just yet, but Bryan wasn't naïve enough to think that no one had gotten hurt – or worse, died – by now.

The assault rifle in his hands continuously spat out burst after burst, just as he wanted it to. His gun was just one out of hundreds of weapons, but even one more rifle could make the difference, as his instructor in bootcamp had told him. Still, it was hard to comprehend he was actually part of such a large battle. It was so surreal that he couldn't help but glance at the others of his unit.

The marines were firing nonstop from their foxholes and trenches. A combination of assault rifles, DMRs, SAWs and other weapons thundered as they spat out lead at the imperials. However, the loudest killers were the numerous machine gun turrets that had been set up along their defensive position, mowing down any enemy in their sights. There was even the occasional mortar that made its presence known by launching an explosive shell.

Bryan could certainly see the effects even from this distance. It was hard to miss the explosions that dotted the treeline, digging up dirt and splintering wood. A permanent cloud of dust and sand hung over the field. How many imperials had had their limbs blown off by those mortars? Questions like these popped up in his head now and then, even though he was trying his hardest to kill too.

"Are we even hitting anything?" He asked out loud.

Reiner shook his head yet didn't stop using his SAW, "No idea, they're too far away. Just concentrate your fire on the positions where you see those energy bolts coming from."

"Easier said than done. It's hard to see anything with that cloud of dust in the air." Bryan growled in frustration. Storm troopers tended to stand out due to their white armor, but their cousins in the Imperial Army wore armor that blended in with the forest, using a mix of greens and brown, "Shit, get down!"

He crouched low in their trench, Reiner following him moments later as a cluster of red plasma bolts flew overhead. Bryan flinched as the sandbags whined loudly; the flammable material hissed, smoke rising from where the bolts had impacted. He hoped their cover hadn't been set on fire by the enemy.

"Well, this is just great." Reiner said dryly, his SAW resting in his lap as they waited for the suppressive fire to settle down.

Bryan snorted, "Be happy that they didn't get your head. In fact, I think you owe me a thank you for saving you."

"I'd rather kiss one of the Squids." His companion deadpanned emotionlessly.

BOOM.

The familiar sound of a Scorpion tank thundered over the battlefield as its main gun fired a shell, probably killing a random imperial or at least scaring the shit out of them. Bryan couldn't help but grin at the thought. He and the rest of his generation had been born during the human-covenant war, instilling a strong sense of patriotism in them, and Bryan felt proud to be part of something as important as the UNSC; especially the marines.

Therefore he grinned widely as that Scorpion tank probably ripped an imperial bastard a new one. They deserved no less for trying to invade his planet, trying to mess with the UEG and UNSC. Call him foolish, but he was confident that they could win, that they would push through like they did during the past war. This fight was a prime example; the imperial soldiers up ahead were probably dying by the dozens, being unable to advance a single inch meter forward.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Reiner asked, staring at him like he was some kind of an idiot.

"Well, we're winning, aren't we?" He retorted, still grinning, "That's a good thing, right?"

The heavy gunner shook his head, chuckling softly, "You know, of all the people they could have stuck me with, they had to pick the moron, didn't they?"

"Up yours!"

At that moment, the blaster fire stopped pinning them down. The two of them immediately sprang into action, Reiner placing the bipod of his SAW on the sandbags, while he aimed down his sights. Breaks were something you took when the battle was over, and this fight hadn't stopped just yet. They opened fire once again with the intent to drive the enemy away.

It was rather horrifying for the Imperials, when you thought about it. The marines were dug in deep with soc much defenses – like the loud machine guns and thundering tanks – while the army troopers in the emperor's service had nothing but a battalion's worth of infantry to throw at them. The enemy had to be terrified by the wall of trenches and barbed wire.

"Enemies next to that boulder on our left." Bryan called out, spotting three green-armored figures next to the dull grey of the rock.

"I see them." His partner responded.

He was grateful for his earplugs that toned down the roar of Reiner's SAW. The heavy gunner showered the boulder in a rain of bullets, and through the scope of his assault rifle, he could see one of the imperial army troopers spasm before going limp. The corpse slumped against the rock, not getting up anymore.

Bryan blinked as he heard someone yell, "We need a medic over here!"

Unable to stop his curiosity, he glanced to his left where another trench was, albeit at a somewhat lower elevation, which allowed him to see what was going on in it. A marine was crouched over another one, inspecting the downed soldier for any injuries. The wounded marine was crying out in pain from what he assumed to be a burn wound. A corpsman quickly ran over to them, hunching over as to evade being shot at before jumping into the trench.

He quickly looked away as the medic began her work. This was the first time he'd seen someone get hurt, and he had to admit that he felt a bit uneasy about it.

"They're retreating!"

Bryan's attention quickly returned to the battle as he saw that the amount of blaster bolts heading their way gradually lessened until the imperials seized firing. True enough, it appeared that the enemy had had enough for now. The army troopers al but ran away, even if coordinated by officers, trying their hardest to get away unscathed.

He slumped his back against the wall of the trench, "We… we did it."

The relief and awe in his voice resonated with Reiner, who nodded slowly while relaxing his grip on his SAW, "Looks like it."

They could finally relax. Bryan still felt anxious, which was probably an effect from the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins. He took deep breaths to calm down; his heart was beating quite rapidly, and it surprised him that he hadn't noticed up until now.

"Hey! You guys okay?" Came the familiar voice of Lorenzo, who jogged at a steady pace as he made his way over to the trench, "Any injuries that need patching up?"

Reiner shook his head, "We're alright, Salvini. Despite having been shot at by what looked like a dozen rifles, we didn't get hit once. Crappy imperial aim."

"What he says." Bryan echoed, his head still leaning against the wall.

"Looks like you guys were lucky then. So far we've got six men down; three with minor wounds, one in critical condition and one dead. That's only our position though, so I can't speak for the others." Lorenzo told them as he patted his medkit.

Bryan didn't know how to feel about that. His mind replayed the shout for a medic from only a minute or two ago, and how the person that had been shot could be the dead one. This was the first time he had come into contact with a life-threatening situation, but it was as if his mind had trouble registering it. Hell, he could have been shot – he almost had been actually. Bryan just didn't know how to call this feeling that he was experiencing.

Numbness, maybe?

"Could have been worse. If they had come at us with more men and their walkers, we would have definitely suffered more casualties." Reiner remarked grimly.

"I guess so." Their medic nodded slowly.

Bryan spoke up out of curiosity, "Hey, Lorenzo, where is the sergeant?"

"Oh, he's just up ahead. Apparently there's a problem with one of the turrets. Something about it being jammed?"

"That's the last thing we need during a combat situation." Reiner grumbled, somewhat annoyed with the small issue. He shook his head as he inspected his SAW, "A weapon jamming when the enemy approaches is one of the worst things you can experience, especially when said weapon is capable of spitting out bullets faster than the imperials can throw bodies at us."

Lorenzo raised his hands in a placating manner, "Don't blame me. I'm not the idiot who got it jammed in the first place. All you can talk shit about me is how I suck at bandaging people."

"Remind me why you're the medic again?" Bryan snarked, roling his eyes at the casual confession.

"Because I'm the one who can make sure you won't bleed to death." His squad member responded, before shrugging, "Then again, it's not like cauterized wounds bleed a lot."

Right, because of the energy-based weapons. Surviving a blaster bolt was apparently quite painful, not to mention difficult to treat at times. Blaster rifles had a serious kick that some covenant-issued plasma weapons lacked, though they were no less lethal when it came to such a type of weaponry. He didn't want to find out what was more painful; a bullet or a plasma bolt.

"I know how to apply biofoam though." Bryan said in an effort to keep the conversation going.

While he wouldn't admit out loud, he was feeling a bit shaken after the encounter with the Imperials. The banter between the three of them was helping him with his anxiety.

They bantered for what looked like a whole hour, talking about whatever came to mind. Perhaps Reiner and Lorenzo needed the conversation as much as he did, though he would never ask. Besides, it didn't really matter whether he knew or not. The important part was that it distracted him from the adrenaline leaving his body, making him feel more tired than he actually was.

The people around them were in similar state of sorts. Some chose to spend their time talking with each other, though others opted to remain quiet and keep to themselves. No one disturbed them; if they needed some privacy or a moment for themselves, then no one would stand in their way.

Multiple marines ran around carrying ammo boxes to distribute said munitions to those who needed more. Of course, seeing as the battle had lasted not that long in all honesty, it was unlikely that they were already running out of bullets. It was more like making sure that everyone's magazines were back at maximum capacity.

Then an explosion as loud as thunder shattered the relative peace they had.

"Shit!" Bryan cursed, flinching as the ground shook and noise assaulted his ears, "What the hell is happening?!"

"Incoming! Get down!"

"Back in your trenches and foxholes!"

"It's a fucking artillery strike!" Schwartzman swore loudly, before reaching out to Lorenzo and dragging the medic into their trench.

It was as if the earth itself was being torn apart; the ground shook violently as dirt flew through the air, accompanied by the thunderous screams of the explosions. The marines quickly fled to their trenches and foxholes in order to evade certain death. Shell after shell fell, raining destruction down on their position.

Bryan instinctively curled into himself, pressing his back against the dirt wall of his safe haven. The trench protected him from the imperial bombardment, but even the reassurance that it provided did little for his nerves. This was different from earlier; back then they were at least able to fight back, yet now they were completely helpless as the enemy fired at them from a long distance.

Outside of his trench, craters were dug by the artillery, hurling chunks of earth in all directions. A lot of it landed in the protected spots that were being occupied by the marines. Their uniforms were stained by the dirty smudges though it was hard to spot, seeing as it easily blended in with their armor's color scheme. Still, it was quite annoying to sit in a hole and have someone try to fill it up again. No one wished to be buried alive after all.

Behind the trenches, an artillery shell landed right on top of a Scorpion tank, blowing off one of the front tracks and reducing it to scrap metal. This prompted the other tanks to back up or remain in their defensive holes that had been dug beforehand.

The noise was deafening, and the harsh gales of created by the explosions slapped the marines in the face. Bryan wondered how long this would last.

It wasn't like the Empire could keep this up indefinitely, right?


End file.
